


Hopes and Dreams

by StormDriver



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Gen, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Spoilers up through 5.2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25330645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDriver/pseuds/StormDriver
Summary: A fic written with vague hopes for 5.3's scenario. Focuses on the journey that the Warrior of Darkness and Ardbert have taken to get to where they are now.(This was written BEFORE 5.3 released)
Relationships: Ardbert & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Ardbert/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 16





	Hopes and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I just really... really hope that Ardbert comes back alive on August 11th...
> 
> Includes some gore and violence, though not enough to warrant a warning. Still, be warned if that isn't really your thing.
> 
> Also, all relationships presented in the fic are free to interpretation.

_“Where do you think the Warrior of Darkness and that...traitor went?”_

_“We’re still searching for them. We think they went into the Tower, given all the destruction. But the guard has never been allowed in there before. It may take a long time of searching to-”_

_“Captain!”_

_“Wait a minute._

_"Is that… the Exarch?”_

_“Lyna, come quick!”_

_“And the Warrior of Darkness…? Who are they carrying?"_

_"Captain! Inform the chirugeons in the Spagyrics, we need our best hands now!"_

_"M-my lord? Is… Is that-?"_

_“That was a request of the utmost of urgency, Lyna! I can answer your questions later!”_

* * *

_"His condition appears stable. No irregular heartbeat and he's breathing fine. No physical wounds except a few scrapes and cuts. It doesn't seem that he's eaten or had anything to drink in a long time... We'll take care of that, of course. But is there anything else we should know about him?"_

_"No. Please just make sure he’s safe."_

_"You're certain? No ailments we should be aware of?"_

_"...He might panic if he wakes up. It's been a long time since anyone has actually talked to him, much less cared for his well-being. If it comes to that, let me know. I might be able to calm him down."_

* * *

_"There’s no signs of him waking up soon. A few turns in his sleep, but he hasn't responded to anything we've done."_

_"But he's fine, right? Aside from being unconscious?"_

_"Yes, perfectly healthy. There's no concussion, either, so we're not sure what's keeping him asleep."_

_"...I can imagine what. Nothing but time will tell."_

_"I see… Another thing, ma’am."_

_"Mm?"_

_"You’ve yet to tell us his name. You know our policies here in the Crystarium: origins aside, we need to know who we’re harboring in our care. Especially since he looks an awful lot like-"_

_"I… don’t think you want to know. Not yet, at least."_

_“If you insist. Just one more missive, if I may. Your wounds, are they healing?”_

_“...”_

_“Would you like us to check?”_

_“Few times that I’ve pulled the bandages off to put new ones on… I haven’t been able to see out of my left eye.”_

_“Ah… Yes, that is concerning, isn’t it.”_

* * *

_"That girl hasn't left his room since they put him there. Makes you wonder how they're acquainted… What they could be doing."_

_"Oh, don’t say crap like that. That’s the Warrior of Darkness! Wouldn’t have the time for any pleasantries, much less thinking about them. Besides, I've heard rumors that the new wound on her face? She got it from the bloody man! Apparently they were trying to kill each other in the Crystarium!"_

_"Right. Like anyone is stupid enough to fight the Warrior of Darkness. Why would she even stay close to the person that tried to kill her?"_

_"Who knows. Maybe they were friends once. She started staying near ‘em more when they moved him to the Pendants… Surprised they gave him his own room."_

_"Well, of course. The Warrior of Darkness herself practically demanded it.”_

* * *

_“I’m sorry, there isn’t much we can do.”_

_“Well, what can you do?”_

_“Give him time to rest? We haven’t exactly been given a lot of information to work with.”_

_“...I’m sorry. I’d tell you more if I could, I swear.”_

_“I know, I know. The Exarch told us it was quite traumatic for all involved parties, him and yourself most of all. But please don’t try to rush his recovery. There are no physical wounds, it’s all in his aether. All we can do is pray that it settles.”_

_“What do you mean, ‘settles?’ What’s wrong with it?”_

_“It’s a complicated matter… When one of the nurses who’s more akin to working with magic saw his condition, she demanded an aetherologist be brought to see him. Our very best answered and… several expressed grave concern.”_

_“How grave? ...He isn’t dying, is he?”_

_“They described it as if one’s aether was a tapestry. The threads that normally make up the aether are simple to follow, interwoven as they are. But when they saw him, it sounded as if every thread had been torn out and was slowly finding its way back.”_

_“What does that mean for him?”_

_“It means, we’d better pray Hydaelyn does something for once in this world’s lifetime.”_

_“...”_

_“And you... You still can’t see out of your eye, can you.”_

_“No. I can’t see a damn thing.”_

* * *

It was morning. Sunlight slipping from the crevices of the window shutters. A pale light shining over the room cast by the lamps on the wall. Cast-iron pots and pans sitting idle on the kitchen tops. A table fit for dining decked with small ornaments of food and decoration alike. A small table filled to the brim with journals and drawings, papers and pens scattered across its surface. And next to that, a bed with a comatose body resting on top.

It had been several days since the Warrior of Darkness returned from her venture in the Crystal Tower. Several days since she and the Exarch came bearing someone over their shoulders. Someone clad in dark armor with a weapon coated in blood. His own armor stained in the fresh crimson hue. Be it his own blood or someone else’s, no one was sure.

His gear was still stained even as he rested in that bed. The Warrior of Darkness requested that no one tamper with him in any regard. Even as people stared at his armor, his face, and swore they recognized it. Even as some said that, for the safety of Norvrandt, this man should’ve been put down immediately. 

Several days and nights and hardly any sign of life in his body. Only a slow heartbeat and quiet breathing. Only the occasional twitch of one of his limbs. He wasn’t dead, but when would he be alive again? He wasn’t gone, but when would he come back?

When would he wake up and assure her that everything was alright? That Norvrandt was safe and that the Ascian was gone? That the Flood of Light was only a memory now? That the First was going to change? As he had comforted her when she was staring up at the light-filled skies and feeling a burning fire clawing at her aether-torn soul.

The lukewarm rays rose their pale light over the cream-colored tiles. Over the brick walls. Over his body resting in bed. Did well to warm his pale skin. And made him squint as he tried to open his eyes.

Everything felt wrong immediately. There was something beneath his body holding him upright. Some sort of material clinging to his limbs. The air was filled with the scent of fresh-baked dough. Such things he hadn’t felt or had any sense for in such a long time. 

For a century, he walked without end. No feeling to his armor or axe as it uselessly rattled on his visage. No weight in his steps or sound aside from that of his own voice. Not a single word reached anyone he beheld. Not a single cry heard by any who might have been merciful enough. Not one scream acknowledged by the people he’d damned. 

And for the first time in a century, he felt something. He could feel his armor wrapped over his arms and keeping his body warm. He could almost taste the bread as he took another breath in. His own heart was hammering away in his chest and he could _hear_ it. 

_Was this… a dream? Was this real?_

Immediately he tried to sit up. But having not felt a damn thing in over a century, his arms struggled to keep him aloft. They shook as his palms pressed against the bed and for a moment, he thought he might fall. Another deep breath in. He could feel the rich air fill his chest before he let it out slowly. It was strange beyond recognition. He hadn’t had to breathe in so long. 

With great care, he lifted one hand in front of him and stared at his palm. Red leather covered it entirely. A metal gauntlet hung on his wrist, secured by a strap. The metal dyed black as he remembered. Yet the smears of blood were unfamiliar.

He blinked several times, icy blue eyes trying to focus on what they saw. Glanced around the room he was in, which he felt he’d seen before. The layout was familiar, yes. Familiar to another’s room that he’d often tread in.

A glance at the table filled with journals, at the window holding back the sunlight, at the table decked with all manners of treats. And resting next to that table, with her back against the cupboards and her body slumped over in slumber, was the Warrior of Darkness. 

A mystel with raven hair, parted on one side. Short and messy bangs that faded into a stark white at the tips. Two small braids hanging from the side of her head, small white feathers and beads keeping it tied up. The white and black fabric of her coat folded over to accommodate for her poor posture. Her head was tipped forward, chin brushing against the neck of the coat. Her eyes closed and a peaceful sleep took her consciousness.

Her body was leaned back against drawers. Arms draped over her legs and body hunched over in slumber. A gentle rise and fall of her chest and the bangs swaying in front of her closed eyes. A small twitch in one of her fingers. But otherwise, she was absent. 

He stared at her for a moment more. Then down at his hands. The dried blood on them had turned a dark red, almost brown. And some of that same color now rest over her coat. Particularly around the neck piece. White patterns now stained in red, and a new cut in the fabric that he didn’t remember being there before.

He couldn’t help but ask himself the question:

“Did… Did I…?”

But there was no one to answer. Raine was fast asleep. And Ardbert was awake, all on his own. No one there to answer his question, to assure him that, yes, you are awake. You are alive. You’re in Norvrandt and you’re… _you’re…_

He shook his head and held both eyes shut, fingers curling in towards his palms. It was cold in the room. Surprisingly so, much more than any memory could have indicated. Then again, how long had it been since he’d felt anything like the cold? Or the warmth for that matter? How soft the fabric over his arms felt? How heavy the armor weighed on his chest and arms? How sweet the scent of bread had been. How rich the sight of proper sunlight really was…

It was overwhelming. He almost lost track of his breathing ( _he’d been counting his breaths ever since he woke up, still unsure whether or not they were real_ ) and grabbed at his chestplate, tips of his fingers dragging over the dents and edges of his familiar armor. They tugged lightly on the leather straps, which jostled the shoulder armor. He heard it clank as he moved his arms ( _it actually made a sound_ ) and further tested whether or not any of this was real. Lifted up one arm and felt the familiar padding of layered cloth over his forearm, the soft fur that protruded from the gauntlets and the neckpiece of his armor, the armored waistplate and chainmail that actually made noise as we ran his gloves over the ever-so familiar armor. 

He’d stopped counting his breaths. He must’ve taken more than forty before the number slipped from his mind. He was much too caught up in every one of his senses letting him know that he was alive again. 

That scent of bread came back. Overwhelming as it was to try to move, he couldn’t deny his curiosity. The table on the other side was littered with goods, many of which he thought he recognized. Be it the Warrior of Darkness bringing them in, or something he might’ve had over a hundred years ago. There were nostalgic feelings, and some kind of desperation, to confront what it was and to know this wasn’t just a memory.

Slowly, but with care, Ardbert managed to move his legs off the bed and place both soles of his boots on the tiles. He used the bed as a crutch for the first few steps forward, but learned to walk slowly, only a pace every few seconds. Small paces, but growing faster as he regained his balance. Very careful to walk down each small step, and towards that table. 

As he approached, he saw the basket with a small cloth placed over the top of whatever it held. A bowl that contained several fruits of varying colors. A pitcher of water with cups next to it. And...syringes. 

_Why would the Warrior of Darkness keep syringes in her room?_

He might’ve thought he asked the question out loud, and turned to the mystel on the floor, hoping to find his answer. But he was only greeted with more questions. She was still slouched over, asleep and completely oblivious to her friend’s awakening and his recognizance. But that didn’t hide her face nor the bandage that had been wrapped over one of her eyes. 

Ardbert winced, staring at her face and looked for the once-familiar features hidden behind the white cloth. With surprising speed, he’d dropped down to one knee and positioned himself to look up at the girl’s face. Her brows were furrowed and jaw clenched, as if she were in pain. There were small droplets of blood seeping through the white. 

She had been injured. How badly, he couldn’t tell at a glance. But the red streaks in her robes, on her gloves, even some dried blood that had not been washed off her face, were all too telling.

With a steady hand, he reached for the blood stain on her cheek. The tips of his fingers ( _he could feel it_ ) brushed against her skin. And to his astonishment, the blood smeared at his touch. It was fresh.

She took in one deep breath. Ardbert winced and pulled his hand back, watching her eye flutter open. Her chest fell and rose faster than when she was asleep. Her fingers curled into her palms and tightened. Her face scrunched up and she let out the deep breath. A few more blinks and she turned her only eye up.

A hyur was kneeling in front of her. Brown hair was short and unkept, covered in blood in some places. His pale skin was more ghastly than she remembered. Dark armor stained red in some spots. But most jarring of all was his look of dread, like he’d stumbled upon a corpse one day while walking around the city. 

Raine’s eye twitched as she stared at her companion. Her mouth opened and she spoke:

“You’re awake.”

The coarse and rough sound of her voice was unexpected. But how could he have expected her kind and delicate voice when she was still covered in blood, still brandishing wounds that may never recover?

Ardbert said nothing in response. 

Raine sat up more, revealing that the bandage ran all the way down to her jaw. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m...alright.” He was still staring at her face.

Her lips curled into a smile. “That’s good,” she nodded. “Does anyone else know you’re awake?”

“...no.”

Her smile lessened. “What’s wrong?”

She leaned forward, brows furrowed behind the bandages. 

“You’re hurt,” he mumbled.

Raine glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact. 

“How…how serious is it?”

She winced and her eye twitched. “It’s nothing I can’t live with.” The smile on her lips had entirely disappeared. “But, er…” She jerked her head back up and placed both palms on the floor beneath her. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for a while, so-”

Raine picked herself up off the floor fairly fast, but her arms were stiff as she moved, hanging at her sides. Her legs did most of the work to get her standing. She paced past Ardbert, drawing his attention as she approached the table. 

She pulled one of the stools away with her boot and gestured to it weakly, with one palm. 

Ardbert watched her movement. It wasn’t hard to see the rigidness of her limbs. The tired look in her eye. She hadn’t bothered to clean her equipment or brush her hair. 

He did not deny her gesture and stood up again. His armor clanked as he moved. Limbs ached in various places beneath the sheets of metal and cloth. Oh, how he had forgotten this pain in his century long purgatory.

Raine carefully moved a stool for herself to sit on and started reaching across the table. “I was told that…your body wasn’t in very good condition after we brought you home. I guess Elidibus wasn’t too kind to it while he was using it.” A glass cup had been placed in front of Ardbert, along with a small, white plate. “The chirugeons made sure to feed you after they dressed your wounds, but I wanted to make sure you had something for yourself if you woke up.

Just as she was pouring water from a small pitcher, she froze. 

“ _When_ you woke up,” she corrected herself and smiled, but she could not hide the nervous laugh hidden beneath her voice.

Ardbert dragged the small stool an ilm or two further before sitting down. “Were they fearful that I wouldn’t?” He watched her face carefully.

The pitcher touched the surface of the table abruptly, a few droplets spilling over the edge. She took in one shaky breath and said, “For a time, yes.” 

Raine sat back down on her chair, body turned away. 

“I won’t deny my fears, either. You were asleep for so long, and you didn’t respond to a thing anyone did.” Her hands clasped each other, tightly. “Some of the chirugeons wondered if they’d-”

Ardbert waited for her to continue, but Raine said nothing. Her mouth hung open, like the words were waiting to slip out. But she said nothing.

Her head tilted up. “Nevermind.” She turned and offered a small smile, eyes downcast. “You still need to eat and drink today.”

The hyur kept staring at her face, noticing the dark spots under her eyes. How fake her smile really was.

She lifted a hand and tapped the water glass in front of him with the tip of her finger. “Go on, you need it.”

He glanced at the cup that she’d pointed at. The feeling of the glass on his gloves gave him room for caution and he used two hands to hold the cup, lest it slip from his grasp. That’d be quite embarrassing, to spill broken glass and water over the two of them. 

He brought the cup to his lips and let the cold water run over his mouth. It was a refreshing cold feeling, one that he could not recall from recent memory. He’d forgotten what it felt like to drink water. He had forgotten how water tasted...or rather, its lack of taste. 

A moment of silence passed, of him staring at the cup and his faint reflection in the liquid, constantly shifting in the ripples of the water. Raine tapped her fingers on the surface of the table, staring at nothing but the dead air. 

Ardbert took in a deep breath and said, “So what happened?”

The miqo’te turned her head absently. “What?”

“What happened to Norvrandt? To the Ascian and the Exarch?” He swirled the water around in the glass. “And to you?”

Raine’s shoulders moved as she leaned more into the table. “You can answer that, right?”

Ardbert stopped moving the cup and looked to Raine. She’d turned her viridescent gaze back to him. 

“I mean, you helped me.” She reached forward and grabbed a hold of his wrists with both hands. “You remember, don’t you?”

He blinked a few times, staring down at her hands. She flinched and pulled back, realizing she might’ve been a little closer than he’d’ve liked. 

Ardbert set the glass on the table and looked back up. “Tell me what happened then.” He met her lingering gaze. 

Raine blinked once ( _or perhaps winked_ ), a bewildered expression sinking into her face as the memories came flying past. “Well, it-” She frowned and squinted. “There were a lot of…” 

_Was she shaking?_

Ardbert reached forward and placed his hands over hers. His fingers wrapped over the back of her hands. “Take it slow. Just tell me one thing at a time.” 

She stared at their hands, his gloved palms over her tightened fists. Some part of her appreciated the comfort. Another part wished he hadn’t felt inclined to offer it. 

Raine let her shoulders droop and she sunk further into her chair. “After Elidibus’ display in Eulmore...we were panicking and running all over Norvrandt to warn people not to believe him. But the rumors that I would be leaving had already sunken in. Not many people trusted our words.”

“...I remember that,” Ardbert nodded.

“The last place I thought to go was Il Mheg, to warn the fae… They don’t normally listen to people, but I thought maybe warning Feo Ul...and Seto would help. But as we were heading back to the Crystarium, I…”

Raine was shaking, her face turning red and breathing more shallow.

“W-we found Warriors of Light… and they were threatening to kill us. I-I had to fight-” The ears atop her head were flattened against her skull. She was choking on her own words, the sound of her voice breaking up as she spoke.

Raine looked like she was going to be sick. She hunched over and started heaving.

Ardbert leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders. “Oi, keep your head up, it’s alright.” He forcibly pushed her body back up and shook her. Her head lolled around but her gaze drifted back towards her friend. Towards Ardbert. He was staring at her, staring straight through her sickened gaze. 

She took a few deep breaths, letting her breathing steady out. “We fought into Lakeland, and the Crystarium. Elidibus was there, and so was the Exarch… I wasn’t thinking and I thought I could take him out.”

She heaved one more time, closing her eyes and shuddering.

“He turned as soon as I was in striking distance-” Raine reached up to her face and tapped at the bandages over her skin. “Gods, he was smiling, too… He was enjoying it.”

Ardbert felt he remembered this. He could remember Raine rushing across the stone floors of the Crystarium’s plaza, blazing past the aetheryte underneath the dome and throwing herself in front of the tower. Ardbert thought he could remember seeing his own body standing over the Exarch’s robed figure.

Raine sniffled and stole one more glance at Ardbert, slowly lifting her arms. Her hands unfurled and fingers reached for the white cloth that had been wrapped over her head. As her limbs lifted, she started shaking more and croaked out a painful sound. Her arms jerked back down and she grabbed at her aching limbs, weeping silently as they flared up. Even the best chirurgeons in the Crystarium could not heal some of her wounds.

He didn’t ask before moving, already feeling the strong urge to help the poor girl. Ardbert reached towards her face, palms open and lifted her chin up. Her only green eye glistened in the lamp light. His fingers traced over the bandage and started to unwrap it from her skin.

The cloth came loose from her head and fell down around her neck, landing on her shoulders. There was still dried blood around her face. A red scar outlined by dark, cracked skin had been carved into the left side of her face, over her eye. It started just above her eyebrow and dragged all the way down to her jawline. 

Perhaps most jarring of all was her eyes. Her right was the same, bright green color. The left was a blur. The whites of her eyes were reddish, like she’d been crying. But it was a wonder if it was tears from pain, or if it was blood from the wound. Her pupil was desaturated and iris tainted a white-gray color. The eye moved the same, but the way she held her head, as if she could not see out of one eye and needed to put all focus on the other.

It looked terribly painful. The wound on her face had not entirely closed, despite it being several days since she received it. Dried and crusted blood had come to cover up most of the wound, but the crimson liquid could still leak out onto her bandages. Trying to dress and reapply the cloth every few days, maybe even every day, must’ve been exhausting and tiresome. That’s why there was so much blood on her face. Why she stumbled when she walked. 

It didn’t just look painful, it _felt_ painful. He had the vaguest memory of receiving that wound. The cloudy skies overhead were alit with falling stars. The glow of the Crystal Tower illuminated the stones beneath her feet as she ran towards the Ascian, shrieking for him to leave G’raha alone. Her boots pounded the surface of the stones, her broadsword clutched in her right hand and the shield missing from her left.

* * *

The Exarch had not a second to react, to try and warn the Warrior of Darkness to turn and run. She’d advanced too quickly, and Elidibus was all too wary of her presence. The Exarch watched the Ascian turn away with the axe lowered by his side, blade turned upwards. He watched the poor miqo’te run headfirst into a poorly laid trap, completely overridden with her anger and grief.

He watched the Ascian turn and swing that axe straight up towards her face.

The Exarch watched the blade cut across her skin and heard her scream. Her blood splattering across the pavement as she stumbled backwards, more of it pouring out of the newly torn hole in her face. 

“DAMN IT!”

The rumbling overhead grew louder by the second. Dark clouds were tainted a faint orange and meteors crumbled from the heavens. The pathway was littered with unconscious bodies and weapons alike, some only bruised while others were severely injured. Pink and purple petals fell from their trees in the harsh winds.

She shrieked louder as the second wave of pain lapped over her nerves. “GODS DAMMIT!” The skin over her left cheek burned and she swore that the blade was still digging into her eye. Warm liquid spilled over her face, but she couldn’t see what it was. It was dripping over her hands and coating them, running down her robes and staining the fabric a dark red. 

The miqo’te collapsed to the ground and keeled over, hands clutching her face as blood spilled from her eye socket. She kept screeching, her finger tips digging through her hair and nails scratching at her skin. The awful scent of her own blood masked her nose, and the warm liquid rolled over her lips into her mouth. The taste of iron covered her tongue and she could only scream.

“Raine!” The Exarch screamed for her. “Raine, you have to-!”

He was cut off by yet another ungodly scream. Raine screeched down into the puddle of her blood, bearing her fanged teeth and gritting them together. Sweat rolled off her skin and tears welled from her only remaining eye. 

He swallowed his own breath and shivered. The steady stream of blood coming from her face was no good sign. Her own voice rasped and cried and she jerked about, trying to comprehend the agony. She did what he could to hold herself steady, but the girl was beyond hearing any pleas aside from her own.

“Unpleasant as it might seem, it should be able to fully heal.”

The Exarch ripped his face away from his dear friend. Only yalms away, with a bloodied axe clutched in his hand, Elidibus taunted with a sly smile on someone else’s face. “That is, if she were to return to the Source and allow the Rejoinings to happen. Then mayhap once she regained her true self, she could heal her wounds without the use of whatever magicks your kind employ.”

The Exarch took a deep breath and forced himself to stand, using his staff as a crutch. Surprisingly enough, Elidibus did nothing to stop his movements and let the Allagan man rush to his friend's aid. She was still whimpering and crying behind her hands. The gentle streams of magic soaked into her body, slowly rejuvenating her and numbing the pain in her head. But he was loath to admit that there was no type of magic that could fully heal her now damaged eye. 

Carefully considering his words, he spoke, “We’ve no need for Rejoinings when we are content with the lives we’ve been given. It is _your_ kind that would usher us from our world.”

In front of him, Raine whimpered again. More tears slipped off her face.

Elidibus’ eyes narrowed. “‘Your world…’” He scoffed. “This world doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to us. You’ve no place here lest you prove yourself worthy of standing among us.” He finally took a step forward. 

The Exarch’s eyes narrowed. “Does the fate of Emet-Selch and Lahabrea mean nothing to you then? They who fell at her hands and he would speak of remembering your legacy?” He stood up and ground his feet into the pavement further as Elidibus continued his approach.

“I already told you…” The Ascian shook his head. “He had erred gravely. And it cost him his life. It does not seem to matter whether man stands opposed to or alongside the Warrior of Light. Death hath always been his reward. Death for him, his kin, and all that he holds dear.”

The Exarch held onto Raine’s shuddering body.

“After all, it was Emet-Selch who wished to broker an alliance. And Lahabrea moved swiftly to destroy all chances of comradery. _Both_ of them failed. Pray tell; why should I be content with doing nothing to save my people while the reflections continue to hold what was once my home hostage? Are we not allowed a reprieve? Why are we the ones who must suffer?”

“Your pursuit of saving your people is groundless murder of ours! We will not stand idly by and allow you to take away all that we have strived for!” 

The Ascian stared for only a moment more, cold eyes flicking between the Exarch and his patient. The girl was still clutching her eye, tears and blood falling from her face. Her protector watched Elidibus with a careful stare. 

_She could not fight at all in this state._

“I’d never considered it before… But perhaps this is for the better,” Elidibus kept striding forward, the axe swaying with his arms.

The Exarch’s eyes narrowed and his grip on Raine’s shoulder tightened. 

“My quarrels have never been with any denizens of the Shards or the Source… Only ever Hydaelyn’s Chosen, as you like to call them. Only those who feign to stand against us.” 

The crystal hand clasped the staff and he started to stand up.

“If all aether is reborn into a new individual, it stands to reason that her soul is the very same that has always plagued us on the Source. For centuries now. So what if we refuse her to die?”

The Exarch lifted his staff between the two, his ruby eyes set as a glare against Elidibus.

The axe took a gleeful swing in his hand, landing properly on his shoulder as he closed the distance. “Strip her of everything that makes her a hero, but never let death’s hand take hold. Keep her trapped in a cage, but with no promise of escape. She’d be a useless defender, but no one would rise to take her place. Of course, that solution only seems too simple…”

Only fulms between them, the air rife with tension. The axe clutched in both of Elidibus’ hands swung back over his shoulder, bearing down on the Exarch. In return, he raised his staff, the tip gleaming with a bright light. The axehead clashed with something, a conjured barrier, and left only an ilm between himself and the blade.

Elidibus studied the barrier for a moment, “Yes, Emet-Selch did mention your usage of the arcane was more than could be expected from your kind.” The blade still pressing down on the shield and the Exarch still clutching his staff and staring headlong at Elidibus. “Alas…”

The weight of the axe was too much to bear and the barrier exploded. Particles of the energy dispersing into the air and the force pressing the two away from each other. Elidibus stumbled back and the Exarch fell to one knee.

His ears drooped and he rasped for breath, raising his eyes back up just a second too late. The blunt end of the axe was thrust towards his body. The metal slammed into his crystal arm, shoving his whole body to the side and driving him face first into the pavement. He cried out once before tumbling over and rolling away. The staff clattered away from his hands and he lay stiff on the ground.

Elidibus stared at the Exarch, watching for any signs of movement. There was nothing of note, but where the axe had made contact, he swore he might’ve seen a crack in the crystal. 

“Make it stop…”

He turned his gaze back down to the hero. Her ears folded back against her head, black strands of her hair mixing in with her blood. The armor matted in the crimson. Her tail twitching behind her. Body rising and falling, trying to find her breath.

“I don’t believe you deserve that mercy, my friend.” 

The red glove reached for her neck, fingers wrapping over her skin, and lifted her up. Her body slipped off the floor, choking and crying still. Legs rose and fell, kicking at the air, but there was hardly any energy left in her. She was almost hanging limp in his hand.

She who had slain Lahabrea and Igeyorhm… She who scattered their plans for the Rejoining countless times now. She who was the one that must’ve thrown them all aside in the distant past. 

_He could recognize her soul, couldn’t he? Yes, he knew that hue. Too distinct and similar. Of course you were the one she turned into. Of course you were the one who needed to turn against your brethren._

“After everything you’ve done…” His hand trembled and threatened to crush her windpipe then and there. It would’ve been easy. She was so vulnerable. So ready to kill.

Without warning, he flung her body away. It hurled through the air and slammed into the ground, practically bouncing as it flopped across the stones. She screeched at each impact. Blood followed her like a trail. 

Elidibus watched her suffer and struggle, watched her desperately try to get back up but inevitably fall back on her chest. He could hear her weeping and practically see the sorry state of her soul.

The sounds of the meteors did well to disguise the sound of the fire spell. The sharp whisk of flame buried in the sounds of falling stars. Only when he turned to spot the orb of flame did he see it at the last second, and it collided with the warrior’s body. He staggered backwards, burning his skin beneath the armor. He coughed out the puffs of smoke and turned misty eyes towards whoever had launched the spell.

He only had a glimpse of the Exarch leaning on his staff before it was overtaken by a white-clad gunbreaker rushing him with a blade in hand. Both who looked utterly exhausted and weak beyond comprehension. Somehow still fighting. 

Elidibus brought the axe up to guard, but had barely prepared himself for the attack. The first strike was hardly blocked and the second unsuccessful. Thancred’s blade swung underhand, scraping the chestplate of the warrior and slammed into the axe, throwing the weapon out of his hands.

The axe sailed through the air, flipping over several times before slamming back into the stone, blade cracking the pavement and planting itself firmly, only yalms away from Raine’s ragged body. The loud echo of the metal impaling itself in the ground rung loud over the falling stars. 

Raine kept panting. The splitting headache was becoming too much to bear, slowly slipping her consciousness into the depths of slumber. She kept fighting to stay awake, dragging herself slowly across the stone. Her body, every few seconds, falling back onto the pavement before her arms forced her back up. Like a machine was forcing itself to keep operating despite one of the gears being broken and covered in its own oil. 

“Don’t-” She wheezed out, trying to keep a blurry eye on her friends. Thancred was still attacking, but the Ascian seemed to dodge every strike. And the Exarch was leaning entirely on his staff, blood leaking from a wound on his head and dripping down his cheeks.

She grabbed the pavement in front of her as far as she could reach, and pulled her body forward as hard as she could. But her limbs were aching, weeping with torment. Her fingertips growing numb from the lack of blood. Her own heart pounding in her chest and every sense of self preservation yelled at her to stop trying to move. She was dragging blood across the stones with her every move. 

Her arm gave up entirely at this final act and fell limp on the ground. Lungs sucked in one more breath and her whole body followed suit, slapping against the stones. Her only eye fogged and faded red with tears. 

“Don’t…” One last sputter before her voice refused to work. The torturous wound was too much for her body to keep ignoring, no more magic left to cover it up, and she felt every onze of it in her soul. 

Her limbs went stiff and her eye finally closed. The ache wasn’t… numbing, per se. But her mind might’ve begun to shut it out. To protect her from going insane. Her whole body, even the parts that weren’t injured or crying for mercy, seemed to vanish gradually. First the tips of her fingers. And soon her arms and legs. Her body resting on the stone. Even her blinded eye. It seemed to disappear. 

“Is this… a punishment…?” She asked no one. Had she even spoken those words? She couldn’t feel her body, she couldn’t tell if her voice was working. 

It was dark. Whatever command she tried to give her body, it would not listen. Were her eyes opened or closed? Was she even looking around? Was she even trying to listen?

“My friends, they…” She could only hear her own raspy voice in the chasmous void. “They’re…”

How had it come to this? Only a few months ago, people were throwing her praise for restoring night to Norvrandt. Now they had blades at her neck and mindlessly listened to the beck and call of one man. Someone who they’d called a devil for almost a century. Someone who’s name _she_ had cleared. 

And her friends throwing themselves into the mess to defend her… They’ve lived here longer than she has gotten used to the world and its people. She dreaded to admit it, even to herself, but some had spent more time in the First than they ever had spent with her on the Source. They had every reason to trust the people of Norvrandt far more than some hero they hadn’t seen or heard from in years. 

But they still tried to protect her. 

_They still were trying to protect her._

Somewhere in that numb darkness fogging her senses, she felt the slightest pang of guilt. It was she who refused to listen to the pleas of the Warriors of Darkness, and she who let them go back to the First with Minfilia. It was she who forgot about them for months and let their world turn into that forsaken landscape it used to be. 

It was she who forgot that there were people alive on that distant star that Ardbert called home. She who was being called, but she who was left behind while her friends were stolen from their bodies and thrown into her fight. She who foolishly took in the light and almost turned into a craved demon. She who practically forced someone else’s hand to give up his soul to save her.

Everyone had every reason to hate her, especially for being this weak. Especially for falling short at the worst possible time. How could she have let him get such an easy strike? Why didn’t she protect herself more? Why was she so overridden with anger that she forgot that her mistakes would put all of Norvrandt back on precipice? 

_They were still trying to fix her mistake._

_Still trying to protect her._

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. But she knew they were still fighting for her. 

The weakest sense of her limbs was there, flooded with strain. And she did what she could to curl into herself in this steeped darkness. 

“I messed up…” She weeped out, faintly clutching her legs against her chest. “I’ve messed up… And they still want to keep me safe…”

The godsawful pain of her blinded eye was coming back. And she clutched her head again, trying to subside it. 

For all of her fighting, she's surprisingly never lost a limb or had a wound as serious as this. Scars, for certain. Stab wounds that healed in a month or so’s time. But there was always a mage to help numb it out. There was always a treatment to realign her disjointed arm. 

_There was nothing to fix this._

Sheer agony pounding in her head and forcing more tears from her eye. Yet the darkness still hung thick around her.

“I’m sorry, Thancred…” Her fingers loosened from her hair. “We both just wanted to keep Ryne safe…”

Her body fell flat on its back, arms and legs spread around her.

“I’m sorry, G’raha. I’m not sure if Norvrandt will truly be saved after this.”

She closed her eye and took a deep breath. Brows furrowed and face matted in her own blood. The silence was a mercy. At least she wouldn’t hear Thancred and the Exarch wasting their time to save her. The darkness was a mercy. At least she wouldn’t see their bodies being thrown like dolls. 

“I’m sorry, everyone…” She whimpered. “I...”

This failure was new. There was no coming back from this. She couldn’t even bring herself to wake up. _Yes, she was unconscious, wasn’t she?_

Such failings she had only felt scarcely, and she was able to recover in the past. The bloody banquet in Ul’dah? She could run to Coerthas and Haurchefant greeted her with open arms. Estinien becoming Nidhogg’s pawn? All she needed to do was pry the eyes off his armor and he would be free. Zenos bested her once again in combat? Just train harder. He is not as strong as you think. 

The light bursting inside her body? She had someone else to help her bear it. She had a friend that offered his life to…

“YOU HAVE TO GET UP!”

Her frantically beating heart skipped a beat. That was not her voice. 

“Please, I know it hurts, but you’re the _only one_ who can fight!”

Her open eye stared into the darkness above her. 

“I-I’m sorry you have to bear it alone, I would do ANYTHING to take this burden off of you. But I-

She knew that voice too well, it had been mocking her months now. 

“You’re a Warrior of Light, godsdammit! You-” He paused, as if catching his breath.

Raine’s heart sank further. _Of course he’d only reappeared to scold her._

“You have to be strong enough to keep fighting! For your friends, for the rest of Norvrandt and the Eorzea besides!”

She curled into herself just a little. And all the while someone was watching her. On one knee and blue eyes staring down at her aching body. His ghostly image glowing in the darkness. The only source of light for either of them.

“You’re strong enough, you’ve _ALWAYS_ been strong enough!” His voice stammered. “You beat me all those years ago, you sent us running home! So why can’t you-?!” He was struggling to say the words, as if he knew he was pleading for her to say lies.

She could hardly move her body here. It was too difficult to move more than an ilm at a time. What hope did she have to bear any of that pain and keep fighting out there?

Ardbert grabbed at her hand, and she felt his touch on her gloves. 

“Please… You can’t let him kill them,” he croaked out. His hands tightly wrapped around hers. “Not after everything we-” He paused, trying to find the right word. “Not after everything _you_ did, everything _you_ gave.” 

She stared at Ardbert, her own eye misty. She wanted to say that she could keep fighting. Raine so very desperately wished she could say it.

The warrior stared at her horror-stricken face. It was difficult to ignore the bloody mess encompassing the left side of her face, all the new scars and the way it trailed down her neck and stained her clothes. Once a hero that he looked up to and hoped to be one day. Now keeling over and crying at his feet. 

_The poor souls._

He sighed and lifted one hand, letting his fingertips drift towards her face. The gloves caught a few droplets of the blood as it rolled across her skin. He caught the look in her eye. They were staring at each other. 

His brows furrowed and a frown settled on his face. “You…” He panted out once. “You can’t be too weak. You can’t lose this…”

She did not stop staring. Raine took one deep breath in and let her body loosen up.

“I’ve already lost, alright?”

Ardbert froze in his place.

“I lost, and it was my fault for leaving myself so vulnerable… I’m sorry.”

They kept on staring. She wanted to ask him to stop giving her that look, the very same that he seemed to give himself in all his self-loathing. She had tried her damndest to fix what happened in the First. And she just wasn’t strong enough.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and moved his hand to her shoulder. His other hand wrapped over her back and lifted her body up into a hug. Raine couldn’t move to resist or pull away. She felt her face press into the soft furs on his armored shoulders. She could hear his quiet breathing as the hug tightened. 

_She’d never heard him breathe before._

“Then let me fight.”

She blinked once, face still pressed into his armor. Her blood coating the white fur and staining it. 

“I’m not sure what I could do… Maybe grab my axe, leave him with a scar or three. But it’d be better than letting him win without consequence.”

He was willing to fight. 

“O-or if you need me to, I know a lot of weak points in my old set of armor. As durable as it looks, it’s bound to be in awful condition after being buried for a century.”

_He was still willing to fight._

“Just say the word, tell me what to do. I’ll not leave you alone in this anymore. You have my word.”

Raine thought she might’ve heard a heartbeat, too. Whether it was Ardbert’s or her own, she could not tell. Or perhaps…it was both.

She leaned back and stared at his face. Such a fraught expression, one that he would never have given her all those years ago. When they were still at opposite ends of each other’s blades. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled out, ducking her head again. “Thank you for this…”

His hand moved beneath her chin and lifted her head back up. She was forced to look at his blue-eyed stare. A face that was relentlessly cold, and had been for the past few months. Now looking at her with understanding and forgiveness. And something else that neither of them could pinpoint.

The blood from her wound dripped over his gloves and hit the floor beneath them both. He pulled his hand away and looked at his palms. The red liquid dripped to his wrist and soaked into the white fur.

He lowered his hand and turned his gaze back to Raine. “It’s your lead, Warrior of Darkness. I’ll follow you.”

Raine stared longer than she’d meant to. But she nodded, as she always did. 

“DAMN YOU!”

As sudden as if he were blinking, the darkness was gone. Raine was gone. There was the strangest feeling of… _feeling._ Of having ground beneath his body. Of the cloth covering his limbs and the cold stones pressing against his skin. The scent of ash and iron and dirt and grime. The sight of a charred sky and purple trees. The taste of blood in his mouth.

And the _abhorrent pain of missing an eye._

_After having not felt a thing for nigh on a hundred years._

He’d had plenty of puncture wounds in the past, might have gotten scars that faded with the passage of time. But NOTHING compared to suddenly missing an entire section of his face.

 _No wonder she’d fainted,_ he wanted to say. But he wasn’t about to admit that she was right and let her prove her false points of failure. She just needed help going through this rough patch. That was it. And Ardbert was more than willing to provide. 

“Ah, regretting your choices already?” 

That was Raine’s voice. She was still awake and alive. She was still here.

The sounds of war came pounding back as someone shrieked behind her. She turned her body over and spotted what he could only assume was Thancred. Still trying to fight someone with a broken and dented gunblade. 

The coat and gauntlet had been torn to pieces, revealing scratched and bloodied skin beneath. His face was covered in scratches and white hair bleached red in certain spots. He was panting, standing his ground with some yalms distance between him and the Ascian. 

“Where’s…” she mumbled. Missing her left eye made it all the more difficult to look around, which shouldn’t have been too shocking. “Where’s the-”

He was rather difficult to spot, but it must’ve been the red fabric and golden metals of the Exarch’s robes that now lay in a heap near one of the fountains. His head dragged on top of one of the walls and crystal arm trying to push himself back up. Bleeding profusely from a bad bashing on his head, but otherwise still alive. Still struggling to stay alive. 

“Ah, thank the gods,” she rasped out, smiling.

Almost eager to provide assistance, Raine tried to stand up. Only to find her limbs went slack as soon as she applied pressure to the firmament. Her body crumpled back down to the floor and her shriek was silenced as she face planted onto the stones. 

_You’re still weak. Please, be careful._

“You try doing this while missing an eye and half your body’s worth of blood…”

They hadn’t thought this out very well. Or at all. It was a spur of the moment decision for certain. One they both hoped to live through and regret in the end. 

She pressed her palms back onto the floor and forced her body up, trying to keep herself elevated. She stared down at the ground and huffed twice, trying to keep a level head. When more blood spilled out from her eye and splattered onto the ground beneath her body. 

One hand immediately moved and covered the socket, trying to keep any more blood from escaping her body. She placed one knee beneath and her other leg firmly on the ground. Hissed something behind grit teeth before trying to stand up again. Alas, she slipped back down to the ground again, rasping and gasping for air.

_You can’t rest now, they’re still fighting._

“I know that, but I can’t-” She yelped at a sudden influx of pain and sucked in air through her teeth. “Gods, this REALLY hurts...!”

_Do you need help?_

“What?”

_Let me fight. I’ll do what I can._

“It’s not gonna make a difference with you feeling this!”

_I didn’t say it would! But let me try anyway!_

It was hard to believe she might’ve just been screaming at herself. This voice in her head, one that echoed like Hydaelyn used to… It was strange, but not unfamiliar. If anything, she was happier that it was Ardbert’s voice instead of the primal’s.

“Alright. Fine, go for it.” 

Like falling asleep, she felt her consciousness slip away, limbs going slack. Her head lolled forward before immediately waking up again. With someone else breathing the air for her.

He’d been expecting the strange numbness from lack of blood. But having only lived in his own body before being stripped of any flesh at all, he was not used to the miqo’te shell he was walking in. Raine was smaller than he was, so everything already felt wrong. Her ears were planted on top of her head rather than the sides. And the tail hanging from her waist was oddly defiant of holding still.

He didn’t expect how awkward it would feel to suddenly be a different race altogether. Not only that, but Raine’s eyesight was sharper than his. At least in her remaining eye. And she could hear things much more clearly, easily discerning voices from the sounds of fighting. 

Ardbert was frozen, trying to comprehend it, staring at her palms and realizing they were _his_ palms. Feeling the tail flicking at her waist and the ears folding back on her head, that was _him._ This was _his_ body now. This is what she could give him to fight. 

He wasted not another second and forced the pain away from his mind. However awkward it felt to run in her heeled boots, with her coat hitting the back of her legs with every stride he took, he kept on moving forward. The axe wasn’t far away from where she’d been thrown. It was thrust into the ground, the weight of the weapon cracking the stones and holding it steady for someone to take it back. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how strong Raine really was, at least physically. Hopefully her body could take carrying such a heavy weapon.

With one swift motion, her armored hand latched onto the handle as she ran past and the axe came loose from the ground, sending up small pebbles and pieces of stone with it. Her arms hauled it into proper position, her left hand on the lower shaft and right hand further up near the blade. 

The Ascian had been drawing ever nearer to Thancred, who was still brandishing his gunblade with all its dents and scratches. Blood fell down his face in gracious amounts. He bared his teeth and kept gasping for air, but never let his glare drop the adversary. 

Still wearing Ardbert’s face, and a red mask glistening over his pale skin, the Ascian kept walking forward. Whatever ungodly powers he had at his disposal, he must’ve been reaching his patience to hold back any longer. 

The sight was enough to ravage his heart with anger. That was his body, his voice and his face that the Ascian had proudly claimed for himself. 

With a voice not his own, Ardbert yelled as he swung the axe underhand. The Ascian had not heard nor expected the unwelcome assault and stepped away from Thancred, narrowly missing the axe head. Instead, it scraped one of his gauntlets, cutting at the leather straps that held it in place. 

Thancred was taken aback by Raine’s sudden display of axemanship (she’d only ever used one in training) and opened his mouth to comment. But his words were lost as Raine pushed forward again, another scream erupting from her throat. 

Her arms swung the axe out at the Ascian, narrowly missing his body again. But there was the scrape as the tip touched his armor. Another scrape as she swung the opposite way. He kept taking a few steps back, and for every jab forward, he only stepped to the side or raised a barrier with his hands. A barrier which would only last a second before it was torn down. 

“This is a new fury that I’ve never seen before, Warrior of Darkness.”

Another full-blown swing downwards, aiming to cleave at his heart, was stopped midair by a magic of some kind. Much like the one Emet-Selch had used to stop Thancred’s strike, but with hardly as much effort put in to block it. 

“Might you entreat me to the source of your newfound anger?” 

Ardbert’s axe fell through the barrier as the Ascian jumped back. It slammed into the stones beneath and cracked the ground, sending dust and pebbles into the air. 

Raine’s body heaved as her eye scanned the area for the Ascian. He had vanished. 

_Be careful, he might be plotting something!_

But he didn’t hear the girl’s warning. He spotted his old reflection, still donning that hated mask of red, standing across the plaza. 

“You’re acting with rashness, more than I’ve noticed you possess.”

Her heels slammed against the stones, with much more confidence and balance than before. And she swung again. And the Ascian vanished again. 

“It reminds me of another Warrior of Light, one who also failed at his job.” 

The voice was behind them again, right behind them.

The axe swung around and missed the visage again. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say he must’ve had quite the influence on you.” 

Another swing, and it missed. The axe was growing heavier.

“I never did find out what happened to the old Warriors of Light. Only that their bodies were turned into Sin Eaters.”

A pitifully weak swing at the source of the sound. The axe banged against the stone beneath her weak and battered body. More blood spilled from her face. 

“It was indeed strange what had happened to Ardbert’s body… As much as Vauthry tried, it would never awaken. And he gave up on it soon after.”

Raine’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground, clutching the axe as if it were a crutch. 

“It was as if his soul still persisted, and still longed to fight off that unwavering field of light in the sky.” 

She kept panting for air, hugging the axe for support. The Ascian’s chosen vessel was standing right in front of her, staring down at the poor excuse for a hero.

He knelt down on one knee. “If only Emet-Selch had managed to perceive your soul, perhaps he could’ve avoided death. He could’ve spear-headed your spirit and stopped your Rejoining from happening.”

Ardbert had been fighting painful tears throughout the Ascian’s whole speech. Raine’s poor body was on the verge of collapse. He’d asked too much for her to bear the weight of his axe on top of losing all of this blood. He took one woozy and blurred glance around the plaza and saw the crimson trail following her wherever she went. Looked down at the armor and saw the warm liquid had stained her clothes, her skin, the same hue. 

“You’ve no other champions to call upon now.” 

Ardbert turned her gaze up towards his own body, still bearing the mark of the Ascian. His body’s hand being drawn back and something dark being held in its palm. Something like a spear, perhaps. Just the image of it reminded him of a memory that didn’t belong to him. 

“ _Protect!_ ”

The tip of the dark spear collided with the barrier. A magical blue field encapsulated Raine’s body, protecting her and her fellow Warrior of Light from the Ascian’s attack. A spell that Raine nor Ardbert had seen be cast for quite some time. 

They both looked to the source of the cast: the Exarch holding his staff out towards their then-shared body. He was panting and gasping for air, sweat dripping off his face. His body shook just trying to hold the barrier strong. Eyes half-closed but staring at the hero underneath his shield. Praying and praying that it would hold. 

Elidibus looked at the red-haired miqo’te with an unamused expression. “I didn’t think you had the strength to cast again, Crystal Exarch. But just how much are you going to exert yourself before you give up?” His hand still held on the dark spear as it trembled against the barrier.

The Exarch huffed once and said in-between breaths, “I’ll give my all...to make sure that the...Warrior of Darkness...is safe…” He grit his teeth and his body started shaking evermore. “And that Norvrandt...will be delivered from your calamity.”

Elidibus tilted his stolen head up. “Ah,” he paused. “Yes, I suppose it would be _my_ calamity.” Then tilted to the side. “But what if it was caused by _your_ hands?” 

Raine and Ardbert both tried to stand immediately. But her body’s limbs were going numb and it was getting harder to keep her eye open. The voices grew quieter until only a ringing sensation was all that accompanied them. With sheer desperation, her hand reached out towards the Exarch and his tired frame. And her voice interwoven with someone else’s screamed his name. 

The axe clattered against the ground and they both fell forward on their chest. Blood splattered as the body hit the cement. The aching pains had become too overwhelming for either of them to bear. 

The protective barrier faded away and Elidibus was no longer standing above their body, ready to kill them both in one strike. Instead, something else hit the ground in front of them. A brown-haired hyur with messy, unkempt strands and fair skin. His armor, scratched and damaged from over a hundred years of neglect, cracked in certain places as the corpse hit the ground. 

_What’s gonna happen…?_

Thancred’s boots stamped across the ground in front of their shared vision and out of sight. He yelled something about the Exarch, something about not letting this happen again. 

_I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve been more help._

Someone else ran by, wearing black shoes of some sort and a white dress to contrast. Her reddish hair draped over her back and two knives hanging at her waist. She yelled to Thancred to get away from whatever he was near. But Ryne, too, disappeared from sight. 

_You were plenty help. You did most of the fighting._

Two more ran by, a tall figure in black robes with golden chains hanging off his limbs. And a white-haired woman in a black dress clutching a staff in her hand. Both yelling at Thancred as well before Urianger ran towards him to stop whatever he was doing. 

_Perhaps if you hadn’t been so injured beforehand, we would’ve won._

A pair of younger elezen, or elves as Ardbert would call them, both sporting the same white hair and same panicked expressions. The one in red dropped to her knees and was frantically shaking their injured body. The one in blue trying his best to dress the wound on their face. 

_Ah, are those the twins again?_

Alisaie yelled something at her brother, her cheeks turning red and eyes glistening in the crystal’s light.

_Yeah. That’s them._

Alphinaud yelled something back at her, and Alisaie reached over and slapped him. 

It was getting harder and harder to see.

_They’re still your friends… After all this mayhem and chaos, they still came running to you._

Raine’s hand reached out towards something. Alisaie did her best to follow it and found her longing for the corpse only a yalm away. 

_I guess they are, yeah._

Alphinaud rubbed the pain out of his cheek and heeded Alisaie’s order to pick up the Warrior of Darkness, grabbing one of her arms while Alisaie grabbed the other. They dragged their ragged body across the stones, creating another fresh trail of blood. 

The brother asked if this was a good idea. And Alisaie told him that if it was what the Warrior of Darkness wanted, it was what she needed. 

They set the body down next to the one that the Ascian used to inhabit. Raine’s arms splayed out and her body resting on its side. Her back up against Ardbert’s and her only eye finally closing. 

The twins kept close to her body, even as the Exarch was being tormented a few short yalms away. Alphinaud concentrated his healing magicks onto Raine’s shriveled form, hoping to seal her wound as best he could. Alisaie kept a hand tight on Raine’s shoulder and her eyes watched the miqo’te writhe under the dark influence. 

Thancred frantically shook the Exarch’s shoulders and screamed at him to fight it. Urianger grabbed at Thancred’s shoulder and tried to pull him away, telling him that he would only get hurt if he stayed behind. Ryne tried to rush forward and help, but Y’shtola only held the small girl back. 

The Exarch kept panting and heaving, muttering and stuttering out words that were and weren’t his own. Thancred kept shaking him and telling him to fight it. He kept begging that the Exarch would not suffer the same fate that he had all those years ago. He prayed that there would be a choice for the Exarch to be freed of his newfound fate.

* * *

“After that, you were asleep for several days. We found the Exarch in the Tower, still trying to hold back Elidibus from taking over his body and using the Tower to cause a calamity,” Raine sipped on her glass a little more, enjoying the hydration. “With some help, we managed to beat the Ascian out of him. He’s still recovering from the whole thing, but we were told he’s alive and on a road to recovery. 

“I told Y’shtola that you had helped me fight, and she said that must’ve meant you were still alive in there. Urianger proposed that we try to separate the two of us, since your body was still...here and all. And it was Ryne’s idea, actually, to use your Crystal of Light to split your soul off from mine.”

Ardbert blinked a few times, “How did I...forget any of that?”

Raine shrugged, “We were told that your aether might’ve been all messed up due to separating our then-joined souls.” She took another sip of her water, then continued, “Some memories may be misplaced, we’re not entirely sure yet.”

The hyur was silent. But at least he was no longer cringing away from looking at Raine’s freshly scarred face. 

“The good news is that you and the Exarch got out alive. Though you were in a much worse state than him, given the…century of being buried,” she looked Ardbert up and down when she said that, as if expecting to see an undead being in front of her instead of her friend. 

“What happened to Elidibus?” He felt a small fire reignite in his chest just for speaking the name.

“Right, that...” Raine’s shoulders drooped, her cup sitting in her lap. She had moved herself to sit on the edge of the table rather than her stool, and used her stool instead as a footrest instead. “I don’t think he died. We didn’t have any white auracite on hand. But he most certainly ran away.” 

“Ah,” Ardbert sighed and took another drink from his water glass, which had been refilled several times now. He didn’t count how many times. Just noticed that Raine kept refilling as she told their story. “Bastard…”

Raine nodded along, “Agreed.”

“So what happens now?”

“Hmm?”

“What’ll you do now, Warrior of Darkness?” he smiled as he spoke. “Go back to the Source and stop the Garleans? Stop the Bozjans from flickering out? Defeat another Ultima Weapon? Summon more primals in the Empty or help out androids in an abandoned factory?”

Raine stared blankly at him. “You’re just relishing in this, aren’t you? Knowing all this crap you didn’t know about me before?” 

Ardbert shrugged. “I can’t help that your life is much more eventful than mine ever was.” 

“Well, if you’re so interested, what if you came along to help with it?” She smirked as she offered and placed her cup back down on the table. 

He swallowed the last bit of his water and watched Raine as she stood up. “I don’t think I’m able to follow you to-”

“Ah! Hold that thought until AFTER we ask the Exarch about bringing you with us.” 

“Isn’t he still recovering?”

Raine scoffed. “ _After_ he’s recovered. He’s still gotta help send the Scions back home,” she was grinning and it did well to take away from the scar over her face or her new, gray eye.

“Do you have a plan to do that?” Ardbert asked, already setting his cup down on the table after her.

“Well, thanks to you and Ryne, yes!” The Warrior of Darkness held out a crystal, one who’s shape and essence was all too familiar. If only instead of a fiery red, it was a blue as deep as the ocean itself.

“A Crystal of Light…?”

“Crystals store energy in them, yes? Well, we just aspect the Scions’ aether to each of my crystals and then I carry them home.”

He looked at the crystal in her palm, then back to her face. Though it was changed greatly by the new marking, he could still recognize that playful and ignorant demeanor behind her discolored eyes. That was still the Warrior of Light that he knew from the Source. That was indeed still Raine.

Ardbert snickered at her suggestion. “It sounds absolutely absurd… I’m willing to bet it would work.”

“Then would you like to accompany me to the Ocular to ask the Exarch about it?” The miqo’te stuck her hands behind her back and raised her head up, looking down at Ardbert. “I could introduce you to all the Scions, too. You could all start again, on way better terms.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Some part of him told him to say no, on instinct. For years now, he’d thought that the Scions must’ve hated him and his friends for what they’d done. And for the past few months, he thought they were only hiding that hatred for the Warrior of Darkness’ well-being. 

But Y’shtola had vouched for bringing him back. As did Urianger, the very man who betrayed them in the end. And Ryne who came up with the idea to put him back in his proper body. The twins dragging Raine to safety after they collapsed.

Perhaps they didn’t hate Ardbert. Perhaps they only wanted to understand him better. Why else would Alphinaud always ask them to stop fighting? Why would Alisaie hesitate to bear her sword against them? Or Urianger to turn on them for their benefit? 

These would all be good questions to ask the Scions personally. And in the presence of good company such as their beloved Warrior of Light, who could’ve said no to such an offer?

Ardbert stood up from his seat, already feeling his legs as his own again, like they once were so long ago. No miqo’te tail hanging from his waist or cat-like ears atop his head. This was his body, and his alone. The one he was born in, died in, and would continue living in. His second chance at life, that Raine fought and nearly died to get back.

He wasn’t much taller than the miqo’te. Only enough to look down on her when they were both standing up straight. Raine was staring at his face with a wide-eyed look. Her right eye was a bright green, the left eye a gray-ish white. Dried blood had been wiped off her face. No longer a tired look beneath her eyes. 

Ardbert clasped her shoulder with his left hand and shook her lightly, as if to remind Raine that he was no longer a shade. His blue eyes glistened and he offered a small smile.

“I’d like that, Raine. Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is more than likely gonna be my last fic for a month or two. I'm having my wisdom teeth removed about 5 hours out from posting this, and I really wanted to get this done before I'd be put under. Thank you to anyone that read it and I sincerely hope it was a good read. If you've got any tips, feedback, or something you liked about it, please let me know! This fic idea has been in my head for a little over half a year now and I'm glad I finally got it all written down.


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